Ghosts of the Past
by alynwa
Summary: A Sugar and Spies story.  Rated M for language and adult themes.  I think I would give away too much if I said more.  The boys belong to whoever they belong to and all original characters are mine.


Ghosts of the Past

A Sugar and Spies Story

Napoleon Solo was sitting in the office he had created in the former master bedroom of the penthouse that used to be next door but, was now a part of the apartment he had inherited from his Aunt Amy. He was angrier than he had ever been; in fact, he was sitting there in a full blown rage. He was seething, he was breathing deeply and his heart was pounding from the adrenaline coursing through his veins. The only reason he was not on the other side of the house kicking the shit out of that miserable bastard he called a partner was because he did not wish to upset their daughter. He knew that Illya would not appear in the doorway because Leona was too young to leave so far away unsupervised which was exactly why he chose to sit here. It was either be here or leave and he'd be _damned _before he left his home. _I'm going to sit here until I calm down_ _enough not to commit assault and battery on sight and then I'm going to go talk to him and he can take that "taciturn Russian" attitude and shove it! He _will _explain himself to me tonight!_

The evening had started so normally. Ever since Illya had taken Melody on their first date three months ago, Friday had become Illya's date night and Saturday had become Napoleon's. They had never discussed it; it just flowed as smoothly as their partnership had: If Illya wanted to go out, he went on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays and Napoleon went on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays. Sundays were reserved for family time, whether out or at home.

Illya had told Napoleon that he was taking Melody to dinner and a movie and not to expect him home before 4AM. They didn't entertain overnight guests in the penthouse and would return home before Leona awakened.

Napoleon and Leona had spent their Friday night in the usual way: Italian food (tonight had been spaghetti and meatballs with salad) followed by "The Brady Bunch" and "Hogan's Heroes." After they watched the closing credits, it was time for Leona's bath. She insisted on putting on her pajamas herself and only got stuck once which tickled Napoleon to no end. They had already decided that Daddy would read Dr. Seuss' "The Cat in the Hat" to her.

He pulled back the covers and she climbed into her bed while Napoleon got on the bed with his back against the headboard. He kicked off his slippers and put his feet up and when they were both comfortable, he began to read to her in a soft, sing – song voice. By the time he had finished, Leona was sound asleep. He checked his watch; "Bracken's World" started in fifteen minutes. He put the book down on the nightstand and yawned while he stretched out his arms and legs. _I'll just watch her sleep for a minute and then I'll head to the living room._

The next thing he knew he was being shaken roughly awake by Illya, who looked absolutely incensed. "What's going on? What's happened?" he asked as he came off the bed and shoved his feet into his slippers. The Russian said nothing; he turned and walked out of Leona's room with Napoleon following. When they got to the living room, Illya whirled around and grabbed his partner's arm. "How long has this been going on and why should I not kill you where you stand?" Illya hissed at him.

Napoleon was shocked. "What are you talking about? How long has _what _been going on?" He shook off Illya's hand. "Talk to me, Illya! Does this have something to do with Melody? Is that why you're home?"

Illya was so upset, he was shaking. "Why, Napoleon? Why would you hurt her like that? Why would you betray me?"

Napoleon took a deep breath and tried again. Spreading his hands, he looked at his partner and repeated calmly, "What are you talking about, Illya? Whatever it is, I have _not _betrayed you. What did Melody say I did?"

Illya growled, "Don't insult me. You're been caught. You weren't expecting me to be here now. Just admit you've molested Leona!"

Now it was Napoleon's turn to be enraged. "Have you lost your fucking _mind?_" he whispered fiercely. Even in their anger, they were both keenly aware that their three year old child was a stone's throw away and neither one wanted to disturb her sleep. "Why would you even _think_ something like that? What is _wrong _with you?"

Illya looked in his partner's eyes and saw his innocence there but, he still wasn't ready to accept it. "I came home early because Melody said she was going in to the office early tomorrow to work overtime. When I went to Leona's room to kiss her goodnight, I saw you on the bed with her. I _saw_ you!"

"You saw me sleeping! I read her a story and I fell asleep. You hypocritical ass! How many times have the two of you fallen asleep together?"

Illya's resolve faltered, "That is different! _I _would never do anything to hurt Leona!"

Napoleon's anger moved from red hot to ice cold. He looked Illya up and down and said, "You sonuvabitch. The two of you fall asleep and it's all innocence, puppy dogs and rainbows. I fall asleep beside her and I'm a pedophile? You think because I love sex with a lot of women that I'm capable…" He couldn't even finish the sentence. "I'll tell you what, Kuryakin. I'm going to the office to try to cool off and if you know like I know, you'll stay over here and leave me the hell alone." And with that, he turned around and walked away.

That was two hours ago. His breathing had finally slowed, he was calmer and he felt like he could have this conversation with Illya now without throttling him. He walked back to the main apartment and went into the kitchen to get two glasses from the cabinet. He pulled a bottle of vodka out of the freezer and got ice for his glass. He walked into the living room; placed the vodka and the glass he got for Illya on coasters on the coffee table and then walked to the bar, unlocked it and pulled a bottle of single malt scotch from the shelf and relocked the door; another concession to the fact that a child is in the house. He went to the couch, sat down and poured himself a drink.

As if on cue, Illya came out of his bedroom and walked to the couch and sat next to his partner. He poured a shot of vodka, downed it and then poured another. He glanced at Napoleon, who was regarding him coolly and silently as his sipped his drink.

Illya turned to face him fully. "Napoleon, I am sorry. I am so, so very sorry. Please forgive me," he implored. He looked at the floor.

Napoleon took another sip of his drink and leaned back. "No," he stated. "Not without an explanation and maybe, not even then. What you accused me of is heinous and I want to know what I did to make you think that about me."

The Russian's face colored slightly and he shifted uneasily in his seat. He looked at some far point off in the distance and said, "Believe me when I tell you that I know you did nothing to deserve what I said to you. It was a knee – jerk reaction brought about by my memories of my childhood. Napoleon, I lived through World War II in the Soviet Union as a war orphan. Even in the orphanages, there was little food to be had. Sometimes, we had to resort to begging for food. Sometimes, children offered the only thing of value they had; their bodies, in exchange for food. The people who ran the orphanages turned a blind eye because they were hungry, too. Sometimes, they facilitated the, the _liaisons_ between the adults and the children. You cannot imagine, Napoleon, what it was like trying to survive in a war zone. Morals and common decency took a back seat to needs, all needs. Men, and women for that matter, who would not under normal circumstances ever touch a child in a sexual manner, did exactly that for their own reasons. Boys and girls as young as Leona could and would be used as sexual playthings if the adult came bearing food for payment.

Napoleon had noted how Illya was not looking at him. "Illya," he tried to think of a kind way to broach the subject, "did you, ah…were you…?"

The Russian nodded and turned even redder, "Yes, yes, I was abused." He drained his glass again and refilled it for the third time. Before he could bring it to his lips, Napoleon gently took hold of Illya's arm.

"Illya, tell me about it. Please. I want to understand why someone I love like a brother accused me," Napoleon said sincerely as he let go of the blond's arm.

The Russian put his drink down and rubbed his arms as if he had a chill. "When I was four, my father was killed in action. My mother tried, she did try, very hard to keep the family together. Altogether, there were five of us; my mother, my two sisters, my brother and me, the youngest. Then, the Nazis came. My mother was able to hide me and one of my sisters before they came into the house. She told us to be quiet and stay hidden no matter what we heard. I don't know how many there were. I could only hear them. They demanded to know where the men were and once my mother convinced them there was no one else there except her and three children they saw, we began to hear our mother and siblings screaming. It seemed to go on for hours and then it grew quiet except for someone moaning. All of a sudden, we heard gunshots and then, footfalls as the soldiers went outside. My sister and I were paralyzed with fear but, we did as we had been told."

"My sister, Fekla, was nine years old at the time. She kept me from making any noise and kept us in our hiding place for a long time. To me, it felt like forever; looking back, it probably was no more than two hours. Finally, she led me out and we found our mother and siblings naked and shot to death on the floor."

Napoleon paled. "Sweet Jesus, Illya, that's horrible," he whispered. The Russian was right; he _couldn't _imagine being a child in that situation.

Illya shrugged, "I don't think Jesus had anything to do with it. Years later, I came to realize that some of the bleeding I saw on their bodies was a result of their having been raped and sodomized."

"Anyway, Fekla and I walked to the neighbor's and since they were barely able to provide for themselves, they sent us to the orphanage. I learned there that if I saw an adult lying in or on a bed with a child, sex abuse was going to happen or had already happened. It happened to my sister, it happened to me, I think it happened to almost everyone…" Illya got up from the couch and walked to the large picture window that dominated the wall adjacent to the fireplace to look out at the city lights of Manhattan. Napoleon watched him, knowing that the Russian was struggling with his memories and his emotions.

After a few moments gazing out the window, Illya turned and looked at Napoleon and then walked back and picked up his glass. He seemed on the verge of tears when he said, "Napoleon, I want to say something to you and I may not ever have the courage to say it again so, please listen. OK?"

Napoleon nodded while he freshened his drink. "I'm listening," he replied.

"First and foremost, Napoleon, I love you. You are my best friend, my brother and my partner at work and in raising Leona. You and Leona are my only family and I am truly sorry that I accused you of molesting her. And, you're right; I _am_ a hypocrite. I fall asleep with her all the time and think nothing of it because I _know _I will not physically assault her. I _do_ trust you with her, Napoleon; I know you would never do anything to harm her. I would not even _have _her if you were not willing to share parenting duties, of that I am convinced. My anger and accusations were the result of a flashback to a time I thought I had put behind me long ago. I promise, I swear, I will never doubt you or accuse you of such a disgusting thing again." Illya took a step closer and Napoleon saw a tear escape and roll down the Russian's face. His mouth opened and nothing came out. He closed his eyes, took a breath and was able to force out, "Napoleon, can you forgive me? Please?"

Napoleon stood up and pulled the blond man into a fierce hug. He held on and rubbed Illya's back while the Russian got his emotions back under control. They stood that way for a few moments before Napoleon uttered, "I forgive you, my friend. We won't speak of this again, yes?"

Illya stepped back, nodded and wiped his eyes. "Agreed." He sat on the couch and took a drink from his glass.

Napoleon sat next to him and said, "I do want to ask you something, though. Whatever happened to Fekla?"

Illya put his elbows on his knees, clasped his hands together and put his chin on them. "She died. Napoleon, everything I told you tonight about my life in the orphanage I've never told anyone; not the KGB, the GRU, Mr. Waverly, no one. Only you know these details. I will tell you what happened to my sister but, not tonight. Is that alright with you?"

Napoleon bumped Illya's shoulder with his own. "Of course it is," he replied. Illya finished his drink and stood up.

"Thank you. I'm suddenly very tired, I'm going to bed. Let's go look in on Leona before I go," the blond said.

Napoleon drained his glass. "Sure," he replied as he stood up, "Let's go."


End file.
